Since James Potter had to Stay
by lunarlychallenged
Summary: The Hogwarts professors weren't quite sure what to do about James Potter. In the end, it's not like they could make him leave. He didn't cause any serious harm, and he did a lot of good for those 3 Gryffindor boys. They decided to give him free reign. A series of AU drabbles about James, the Marauders, and Lily.
1. The Sorting: Year One

Even if Sirius hadn't been set apart, by principle, because he was a Black, he still wouldn't have fit in with the other first years waiting to be chosen. He was, for lack of a better word, _dainty_. His hands were smooth from a lack of hard work. His clothes were fitted to hang perfectly from his slender frame. His hair was dark, sleek, and well cared for. He was made to look perfect, and anybody with any sense knew that perfection made you unattainable. Because he looked perfect, nobody dared come up to him. Because he was a Black, everybody worth knowing wanted to be far away.

Nobody had wanted to sit with him on the train. He ended up huddling in a car with two other students, a red haired girl and a greasy black haired boy. They had already known each other, so they left him well enough alone. He made himself small in the car (an action his mother surely would have yelled at him for. _Blacks are better, so they must behave better._ )

Now, as he was called up to be Sorted, a disdainful hush fell over the room. They all knew he would be a Slytherin, but they couldn't complain about him aloud until they knew for sure that he was like the rest of his family. He held his head high, searching in vain for Andromeda in the crowd. His search was cut short when the hat was lowered over his eyes.

 _Ah,_ the hat purred, _another Black. Hmmmmm, but you aren't like the rest, are you? No, you are far too,_ the hat paused for a moment to think of a word. _Too loyal,_ it decided _. Very bright, though. Very brave. Yes, you are very brave, indeed. Where to put you?_

For the first time, Sirius felt his heart speed up. All this time, he had been resigned to his fate. He had never had anybody to nourish a hope with, though he sometimes thought that Andy might have understood. _Gryffindor,_ he prayed. _I want to be in Gryffindor._

The hat did not pause before announcing its verdict: "Gryffindor," it bellowed.

Scattered whispers filled the room. He, Sirius Black, was a Gryffindor. What would his parents say? Wasn't he like them? Why wasn't he a Slytherin? Was there something wrong with him? Or, on the other hand, was there something very right with him? He could not answer any of the question he heard as he walked off the platform. Even if they had wanted to, he wasn't sure he knew the answers either.

His walk to the Gryffindor table was very slow. He may be pushed into their ranks, but that did not make him like them. He would surely be tested before he was wanted. As he approached the table, a large movement caught his attention. He turned his head to get a closer look at perpetrator, though his eyes almost passed right over him: a slightly older boy, maybe 16 or 17, was waving wildly. The boy smiled, mouthing at Sirius to _come sit with us_. Sirius did not hesitate to join him. He didn't have the right to be picky. Nobody else would be so eager.

"You're one of those Black kids, right?" The boy cut to the point, leaning forward cheerfully as Sirius awkwardly shimmied onto a bench.

"Yes," he replied bluntly. As little a right as he had to be picky, he would not stay if this stranger belittled him for his family's reputation. Sirius knew how students at Hogwarts would look at him. Andromeda had warned him ahead of time, whispering that he would learn who was worth talking to. Bellatrix had said something similar, but Andy somehow made it seem more like he would find good friends than friends similar to his mother. Sirius already knew that his mother would mock him for consorting with a - well, with someone _not like them_ , so he needed to make sure that this was someone "worth talking to".

"Cheers," the boy smiled. "Welcome to Gryffindor. I'm James Potter."

Sirius thought he remembered hearing about James Potter, years ago. _He had been quite the Quidditch player,_ high society had said. _Such a shame that-_

James interrupted his train of thought. "This is Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew," he said with a wave towards two boys sitting beside them. Peter was a small, soft boy with a slightly pinched face. His blond hair was slightly stringy, and his blue eyes seemed watery. He looked very wary, but Sirius wasn't sure if it was directly because of his presence or if that was the boy's normal face. Remus as also very small, but his stature looked to be health related. His hair was a pale brown with a slight hint of grey, but that was hardly noticeable when paired with the striping scars on his face. They both smiled at him, and he tried to smile back. It felt more like a cringe.

Sirius looked at James. He knew what the older boy was doing. James had singled out the three new Gryffindor boys that seemed most likely to be outsiders. A sickly boy, a unexceptional boy, and a Black. Sirius figured that he would rather be alone than be dragged down by these, well, these sorts. He didn't know either boy, so his parents would surely disapprove of them. Still, he was not quite sure that he agreed with his family about blood status. He was not sure that blood mattered if they still had magic. Until he made up his mind and made that clear, his platonic options would be slim. All the same, he would not settle for friends he did not want.

He would not say so directly, he decided. He could shake them in the coming days if they felt like burdens. Until then, he would eat.

Sirius ate like a starving man. He could feel James' eyes on him. They were heavy. Sirius did not want to explain that a common punishment at home was missing meals, nor did he feel the need to explain that he was commonly punished. Instead, he met the boy's gaze head on as he shovelled in mouthful after mouthful of the feast. Remus ate primly, as though he wasn't sure how much he was allowed. Sirius felt almost guilty about it. Clearly, Remus could use a few big meals. Peter just ate. He ate like a boy that liked to eat, and never needed to worry about not being able to.

James talked all through the meal, hands moving wildly as he spoke. Remus and Peter were both very funny, much to Sirius' surprise. Remus was very dry, and Peter was an absolute _master_ at one liners. By the end of the meal, Sirius was as loud as James, laughter letting food fly from his mouth. At home, he would have been reprimanded. The knowledge that he was truly free to behave how he pleased was invigorating, and he was incredibly happy. Almost embarrassingly so.

By the end of the meal, Sirius thought that he just might like to keep the company of these boys. James escorted them to their dorm, which Sirius shared with Remus, Peter, and 2 other boys who felt rather insignificant. James went off to wherever he spent the night, and Sirius was finally able to think about the older boy.

Sirius had heard about the Potters. He knew James was a pureblood, and that his own parents didn't talk much to the Potters. The Potters were a more accepting family than the Blacks, so they didn't exactly run in the same circles. Still, everybody had talked about the Potters a while back, if Sirius remembered correctly. He'd have to be deaf to have heard nothing.

James was almost a good looking boy, Sirius supposed. He had hair that stuck up every which way, but it was dashing on his handsome face. He wore spectacles that looked like they had taken a bit of a beating. His smile was mischievous, but kind. Yes, Sirius decided, he would have been very good looking were it not for the fact that he was nearly transparent. He had probably been appreciated by all of the girls before he had died.


	2. The Transformation: Year One

Remus wasn't feeling so good. He had pulled the curtains over the windows in the Common Room, but he could still feel the full moon rising in the sky. It was an itch he couldn't scratch; an ache that built into a scream. It was only 7 o'clock, but the anticipation was driving him mad.

In all honesty, transformations at Hogwarts were much better than he had imagined. Though he had been eager to come to school, he had secretly feared being locked in a shack during the transformation. It was terrible everywhere he went, but his mother and father had always tried to make him comfortable at home. School wasn't about coddling children, so he hadn't been sure how it would all go. Dumbledore hadn't lied about the safety precautions, so Remus could rest easily in the regard. What he hadn't expected was the pleasant, helpful company that he had during the transformation.

"Remus?" Sirius looked at him expectantly. Remus raised an eyebrow at the other first year, not bothering to look up from his book. Sirius was halfheartedly writing a History of Magic essay, but much of the energy that ought have gone into the assignment was being spent urging Remus to let him copy his essay. Remus usually could not have been convinced. This was a normal exchange for the boys, and they all knew the outcome. Sirius would beg, Remus would refuse, Peter would write his own essay while watching their back and forth.

It was the end of April now, so the boys had already fallen into an easy friendship. Mostly easy, at least. The only tension was all on Remus' part. The sore spot was that Remus Lupin was a werewolf. Despite his fantasies of acceptance from his dearest friends, he was surely fooling himself when he imagined that they could bear to be near him when they knew what he was. So while Remus would normally have refused to let Sirius copy his paper, he was too worried that this would be the month everything he had built collapsed around him.

When he shoved his own essay towards Sirius, both of the other boys looked at him with surprise.

"Look at that, Pete," Sirius crooned with a grin. "I've finally broken him. The rest of our time here will be spent like kings. We'll hardly have to do our own homework at all."

"Maybe we can get him to find the kitchens for us next," Peter said with a smirk.

Remus playfully grabbed at the essay. "If that's how you're going to thank me, I'll take it back. I deserve better than you prats."

"No, Remmy, please." Sirius clutched the essay close to his chest dramatically. "You are the true king here, I promise."

Remus settled back against the squishy armchair, mock-satisfied. "It's good to know you see who's really in charge here."

"You mean me?" James Potter's voice came seemingly out of nowhere, but the boys had grown used to that back in the fall. Towards the beginning of the school year, parts of being friends with a Hogwarts ghost had been alarming. His ability to become invisible was only one part of it. When any of them accidentally brushed against him, the chills were almost overwhelming. He didn't talk about how he died, and none of them wanted to ask. Remus thought that Sirius might know something about it, but Remus thought that they were all entitled to secrets.

"Of course," Sirius said hurriedly. "You have my allegiance. Long live the King."

The boys burst into laughter. James had a soft spot for death-related jokes, much to Sirius' delight. At times like this, Remus could almost imagine that they were a normal group of boys. Almost. If he hadn't known why James was there, he may have been able to lose himself in the fantasy.

When the laughter stopped, James turned to Remus. "Your mum is-"

Peter cut in, surprised. "She's sick? Again?" Nobody had yet had the nerve to ask what was wrong with her, and Remus was thankful for it. He wasn't sure how he would reply.

"Yep. She wants you to come home for a day or two." James shrugged apologetically, and Remus slowly stood. He had mastered the face of reluctant resignation, and Sirius and Peter looked at him pityingly. They said their goodbyes.

James floated with Remus out to the grounds, where a cat waited impatiently. Even as a cat, McGonagall was severe. She gave Remus the same gentle glance that she gave him every month before darting forward to press a knot on the Whomping Willow. The tree quieted so he could enter, James floating after him.

James had been Remus' escort to the Shrieking Shack since the second full moon at the castle. McGonagall had walked him the first time, and it had been a horrible transformation. The more afraid he is, the more painful it is. Remus was always afraid, but he had never been so completely alone. Afterwards, when he was in the hospital room, James found him. He told Remus that the ghosts and teachers had all talked about a werewolf student, but James hadn't known it was him. Much to Remus' surprise, James not only treated him exactly the same, but he didn't tell anybody. Remus' secret was safe, and he had a friend to walk him to his doom.

The Shack was a wreck of a place, but Remus was never bothered by it. He told the professors not to bother repairing everything, since he would only destroy it about a month later. It was a waste of time, and Remus wasn't a stickler for cleanliness anyway. Sirius and Peter were always teasing him about being a slob.

Remus sat cross-legged on the floor of the shack. He never brought anything to do in the hours preluding the transformation. There was no point bringing entertainment that he would shred a few hours later. James had come often enough to know that silence was usually better. Remus had never been a nervous talker. He wasn't much of a nervous anything. James was there as emotional support, not a goofy friend. James had realized immediately upon his discovery of Remus' condition that he could stay throughout the transformation. He may not have been able to help physically, but Remus liked the company. If he had to be afraid and in pain, he may as well have the support of a loved one.

"Remus?" James was uncharacteristically serious, so Remus met his eyes. In that moment, Remus could feel the age difference between them. Remus had turned 12 over a month ago. James looked around 17, but in reality Remus thought he must be years older. In his 20s, perhaps.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"You know that Sirius and Peter wouldn't care, right?"

Remus shrugged noncommittally. "I guess so." He didn't guess so. Remus harbored the deep, unshakeable fear that nobody could want a werewolf. After all, Sirius was raised by some of the most closeminded people in Britain. They had slowly been teaching Sirius what was wrong with his upbringing, but only so much could be done. If most wizards were disgusted by werewolves, Sirius couldn't be blamed if he hated Remus too. Peter had probably been raised to fear him, so Remus refused to get his hopes up.

"No," James insisted. "They care about you. You'll have to tell them someday."

"I know." That was the truth, at least. Remus' mother couldn't be an excuse for 7 years. She had only worked this long because the boys had never seen her. Someday the excuses would run out. "I know, but I can't tell them. Nobody can tell them yet."

James said nothing, so the boys sat in silence.

There wasn't a specific time that the transformation hit every month. Sometimes it would hit him shortly after 10, other months he wouldn't feel it coming until midnight. He preferred it when it came earlier. The anticipation was almost too much sometimes.

This month, it came just before 11. He felt his shoulders start to hunch over first, and a nervous moan escaped. James' head shot up.

"Remus? Is it starting?" It was a useless question. Remus couldn't have answered it anyway. His teeth were already elongating. "Okay," James whispered. "It's fine. You'll be okay. I'll be here the whole time."

Remus couldn't say anything, but when the bones in his legs started to shift, he screamed. James laid a freezing hand against his shoulder. The hand couldn't settle against him, but the cold was a welcome relief from the agonizing burning that came with the transformation.

"I'm not going anywhere, Remus, okay? You are safe with me." Those were the last words Remus heard before he blacked out.

When Remus woke up in the hospital room, James was with him. James was always with him when he woke up. It was a welcome sight, but Remus was always sort of embarrassed. By the time he was conscious, Madame Pomfrey had already healed most of his cuts and bruises, but Remus knew that James had never left his side. James could not stop the Whomping Willow to let Remus into the Shrieking Shack, and he could not carry Remus back to the hospital wing after the night was over, but he could be the guardian Remus had always lacked. James performed his role admirably, but that meant he always saw Remus at his worst.

"Hey," Remus croaked. "Whatcha got?"

James gestured to a mound of chocolate bars on the bedside table. Remus didn't know where James got the candy, and he didn't know how James delivered it to the room, but the ghost never failed to bring Remus' favorite candies every month. At the end of the day, while Remus napped, James would find a way to get Remus' favorite trousers and sweater delivered. It was a mysterious tradition, but Remus appreciated all of it.

Really, Remus appreciated everything James did to help him. James could be an exhausting friend to have, what with the invisibility, frequent disappearances, and cold touches. The knowledge that James was dead was often pushed to the back of their minds, but it would inevitably lead to loss for all of them. James was trapped here, and they were not. He would not be able to write them letters. He could not come to visit them. He may never see them again after graduation. James was a ghost, and that was an unavoidable truth. All the same, James was a loyal friend. He was almost the mother of the friend group he had created. James had brought together 3 misfit boys and a ghost, and the group that resulted were the only friends Remus had ever had. They were the only people that had ever accepted Peter, and the only people to love Sirius in the way Sirius had always needed. James was a ghost, but he gave them better lives than they could ever have created on their own.


	3. The Discovery: Year Two

Madame Pomfrey had worked at Hogwarts for many years already; the headmaster had hired her right out of her medical training. She was very thankful, and she really was very good at her job. There was one downside, though, and it broke her heart. It was the one part of her work that was nearly unbearable. She had only failed the one time, and that was a very good success record. Poppy was sure of that, and Albus would have fired her by now if he didn't believe the same. Sometimes she almost wished he would fire her, just to ensure that she wasn't stuck with the item of her most dreadful failure. She knew, deep down, that she couldn't have done anything. He had been gone before she had arrived. Still, to think that a people group with magic continued to fail to put a true stopper on death...

James Potter glided into the hospital wing, and her breath caught. It always caught when he came in. One could hardly see where his ribs had been smashed in. Thankfully, that was the only injury his ghost had adopted. He would have been a truly gruesome sight if he looked exactly the way he had when he died.

"How's my boy?" he asked cheerfully. The pleasant tone wasn't put on; he found her presence much more enjoyable than she found his.

"He is as well as always, Potter. He's really in no danger. He's in very good hands," she said sharply.

"I know he is." The ghost's face had gone earnest. "He's in the best hands. There is nobody I would trust with Remus aside from you, Poppy."

She scolded him. He may not be a student, but he still ought not call her by her first name. As he made his way to the Lupin boy's bed, she had to turn away to hide her flush. He had always been something of a flirt, and she was always a sucker for compliments. A bad combination.

She watched as the two boys chattered together. The other boys, Black and Pettigrew, still didn't know about Remus' condition. She had a feeling that they wouldn't care. They were good kids, and they clearly loved each other very much. It was good of Potter to take in those boys. They were all on the brink of great and terrible things, so they needed somebody great to guide them. He trusted her with his sick friends, and she trusted him with wayward boys.

The door swung open to reveal a small girl with crimson hair. Lily Evans, a second year. Her face was obscured partially by a large basket of sweets and books that she held in her reedy arms. She marched to Remus' bed and yanked the curtains aside.

James stood instinctually. "Evans," he said firmly. "You shouldn't be back here."

She tried to get to Remus' bedside, but James moved with her to block her way. James felt like a real person when one didn't think about the fact that he was dead, so Pomfrey assumed that it did not occur to the girl that the ghost could not stop her.

"James Potter, you had better get out of my way," she snapped. A chocolate bar tipped over the edge of the basket. James tried to catch it, but it fell right through his hand. He flinched as he straightened.

"You can't be back here. Go back to the common room, and don't tell anybody that Remus is here."

She shook her head vehemently. "No. Remus is very sick, and he needs company."

James gaped at her. "He has _me_ for company." He paused, then continued hurriedly. "Besides, he's not even that sick. He's just got a cold."

Lily was small for her age, but her mind was sharp enough to make up for it. She had a mouth almost as big as her brain, and it had gotten her in trouble a few times. Never enough for Madame Pomfrey to have to fix, but she had had to fix the victims of Lily's rage more than once. Lily raised one eyebrow, her sarcasm dripping from each word. "I didn't know that colds were transferred from the saliva of a werewolf. Huh. You learn new things everyday."

James looked about ready to either laugh or scream. He had been several years older than her even when he died, but Pomfrey smiled at the pair. Most of the boys idolized James. Older girls fancied him, only acceptable because he could never be in a relationship like that regardless of their words or actions. Lily was young enough to be immune to his dancing eyes and handsome smile, but old enough to stand against him without falling.

"Lily," Remus said breathlessly. His always pale skin was nearly white with alarm. "Lily, please-"

She flapped a hand at him. "No worries, Remus. Your secret is safe with me. I brought you some stuff."

She walked over to Remus' side. James tried once more to stop her, but she walked right through him. They both doubled over slightly, breathless. Lily staggered for a few steps, but made it to Remus.

James sulked for the entirety of her visit, looking at her the way a detective looks at a secret. His eyes were confused and curious; cautious and eager; hungry and hesitant. Pomfrey knew little about the mind of a teenage boy, but she thought she could understand the thoughts of a dead one. He had not lived long enough to be content with death. He was content with the way he died, maybe. He had never said anything about regretting it. But he pretended to be alive. He made friends. He sometimes went to class with them and pretended he belonged there. He helped his young friends plan and execute pranks. He would stand by the door as older children went to Hogsmeade, staring longingly out the doors of his beautiful prison. He wanted to be alive, and Lily Evans felt as alive as anything he had experienced since death.

She supposed that this would be the start of either a horrible feud or a beautiful friendship, but she didn't much care which it was. She just wanted James Potter to have a little happiness. His eternity would be far too long to begin the boredom now.


	4. The Revelation: Year Four

Peter really wished that James was alive. It was a selfish wish, really, and it shouldn't have been. He knew that Remus and Sirius wanted it too, but he thought that they wanted it differently.

The other two boys were really good at things. Sirius was handsome in a way that just wasn't fair, and it won him points with just about everybody. Lily had told Peter once, her voice thick with amusement as they watched Sirius dangle from his broom upside down during a Quidditch match, that attractive people were usually seen as more trustworthy and capable than unattractive people, even if they shouldn't be. Sirius had been weighed down by his last name for the first three years at Hogwarts, but by the beginning of fourth year, he had become Sirius Black, not Mr. Black. It didn't seem like a big shift, but it made all the difference in the world. Sirius was well liked. Sirius, in ways that Peter would never be able to, Mattered. Peter mattered, Sirius Mattered.

Remus was good in other ways. He was wildly intelligent in a way that could have saved Remus from putting forth any effort at all. It would have been maddening to Peter, who struggled in every subject but History of Magic, but Remus still put in all of the effort simply out of interest. He was ruggedly attractive, if you were attracted to sweaters and warm smiles and gentle touches and the smell of tea. Most girls were, though Remus kept his distance. He had told Peter once that he could never get married. He could never chain someone to werewolf, or the life he would be forced to live because of it. He was funny in a dry way, a lot like Peter, but people thought Remus was funnier than Peter was. Remus would never be esteemed by everyone in his entirety, but he was nearly impossible to hate.

Peter was their third wheel. They loved him, and he knew it, but it was Remus-and-Sirius and Peter. He was a Marauder to them, but not to everybody else. Lily liked him pretty well, and he thought she was just marvelous. He was really keen on Mary McDonald, but she couldn't look past grey eyes and sleek black hair and devilish smiles. Peter had never resented Sirius or Remus, nor would he ever. He just knew that when they graduated in a few years, the disconnect he already felt would widen somewhat. The one person who could keep the gap nearly invisible was James.

James loved Peter more than the other two did. James would help Peter with homework. He would talk to Peter between lessons. He taught Peter how to play a mean game of chess, and Peter was the best player in Gryffindor now. Peter liked James an awful lot, but he really wished James was alive.

Sometimes Peter felt like the only Marauder who knew that James would be stuck at Hogwarts when they graduated. It was far in the future, but it nagged at Peter constantly. If James was alive, Peter would have one of the boys as a partner in every lesson instead of whoever else was the odd one out in class. He would know for sure that they would all stay friends after Hogwarts, since James would never let them drift away.

Peter wished, and all of his wishes were for his own benefit. He hated how selfish he was, but he was just so scared. He didn't want to be alone. Bad things happened to loners.

James had come to Defence Against the Dark Arts today. He sat with Peter, a joyous reprieve from sitting alone behind his two friends. Peter could feel Lily simmering from a few rows away.

James and Lily fought constantly. They would bellow at each other, eyes flashing, arms flailing. Lily's cheeks would flush, her heart would pound, her lips would curl. Peter suspected that she half enjoyed it, but she never told him so. He thought he might try to wheedle it out of her one of these days. People told him lots of things. James' cheeks would go a slightly darker shade of silver. It was barely noticeable, but Peter knew that Lily made James feel almost alive sometimes. James enjoyed the rows wholeheartedly.

At lunch, James had taught Sirius the charm to change hair color. Sirius had turned Lily's hair a ghastly shade of green. She hadn't noticed at first, but her face had gone beet red when she did.

"You look like Christmas with a hangover, Evans!" Sirius bellowed the words down the table, making everybody look over to them. Lily's eyes narrowed as she looked at them. Remus smiled ruefully at his sandwich, Peter gave an apologetic grin. Both boys liked Lily, and though the prank was funny, it would have been funnier on somebody they hated more. Snivellus, maybe.

James laughed so hard that he actually floated up a few feet. Lily looked at him, and though nobody told her so, seemed to know that he was the true culprit. "Potter," she snarled. "Haven't you got something better to do?"

"No, I've got loads of time. All the time in the world, Evans." He smirked at the last words, and she scowled at him.

"Go fall off a broom." With that, she left the Great Hall. Her eyes glimmered with angry tears. Peter wasn't surprised. Lily was one of those people who cried when they felt any strong emotions, though she worked not to let the tears fall. That was hardest when everybody looked at her, so she usually tried to keep their arguments in private settings.

James stopped laughing then. He looked surprised and oddly subdued, and he was quiet the rest of the meal.

When she came to class, her hair was back to its usual crimson glory. She didn't even look at them.

The professor had them do bookwork all period. Peter had hoped that James would help him get the answers faster, but the ghost floated over to Lily's desk. Peter listened carefully, but only caught snatches of the conversation.

"Evans, can we talk?"

"We already are, twat." She didn't look up at him.

"Alone?" The word was heavy with meaning.

"-not, Potter. I'd never - with you." She didn't even look at him.

"Please, it's-" James looked urgently down at her, ignoring Marlene's curious gaze as he focused on Lily's face. Peter wished he was sitting closer, but there was nothing he could do.

"Bugger off," she said. She turned away with finality. James floated back to Peter, dejected.

James halfheartedly helped Peter write about thestrals, but his heart wasn't in it. "How did she know about the broom?" he whispered once.

"What?" Peter asked.

"Nothing." James paused, then looked at Peter closely. He seemed to consider him, then took back his words. "Meet me in the library after dinner."

Peter seldom went to the library, so he had no idea where to meet James when he did go. He wandered uncertainly through the rows of old books. Remus loved the smell, but it made Peter sneeze.

"Pete! Over here!"

James was hovering in the Potions section. Nobody was anywhere near it. Peter rushed over.

James floated back by the window. "Pete, do you know how I died?"

He shook his head. As far as he knew, Sirius was the only one who did. Maybe a few others, but nobody Peter talked to. Sirius never told anybody, not even Remus.

"I think Lily might," James said earnestly. "I never told her, and I'm not sure that she won't tell everybody else."

"Why would that matter?" Peter was confused. James was a ghost. It's not like his death was a mystery.

"Because if people know how I died, they'll treat me like I died. I can't just be another Hogwarts Ghost, Peter. I need, I need more than that." James was serious, and he rarely lacked a smile or a glimmer of pleasure. Now he did, so Peter smiled encouragingly.

"If she hasn't told already, I doubt that she would." Peter paused. "Is it really that bad?"

James looked at his solemnly before making Peter promise not to tell. Peter could promise that easily, so James slowly began his tale.

"I was a seventh year. Head Boy. Captain of the Quidditch team. I was a Chaser. We were incredible, Pete. Totally smashing. Great Beaters, a Keeper who never failed, Chasers with unfailing aim. Our Seeker was a little thing, only a second year girl. She was really quick, but not great at multitasking. We were playing Ravenclaw, and we were winning. It wasn't even a deal breaking game for either of us, but they were mad. One of the beaters hit a bludger at her, and she wasn't paying attention." James fell silent then, eyes far away.

"So?" Peter prompted.

"I was paying attention," he finally said. "I ducked in front of it. It was a hard hit, and I took it to the ribs. Totally caved them in, and I fell off my broom. Nobody caught me."

Peter gaped at him. There were Quidditch injuries, but people hardly ever _died._

James shrugged sheepishly. "It was an accident. It was nobody's fault, really. I'm not sore about it or anything. It's just nice to be treated like a person, not an accident, you know?"

Peter promised not to tell again. He thought about it a lot that night. He thought about all of the details James left out. He imagined the cold fear when James realized that the girl wasn't going to move in time. The air blowing in James' face as he rode in front of her. The scream the girl must have made when she saw him. The pain of the impact with the bludger. The kick in his stomach as he fell. Was he conscious the whole way down? Was he intact after he hit the ground, or did he not look like James at all?

Peter curled up in bed, holding his pillow tight against his chest. He had thought constantly about James being dead, but he hadn't pondered much on the fact that James had _died._ James had had a family. He had been a student, probably with friends of his own. He had taken a hit for someone, and it had killed him. It made Peter's chest ache. He felt almost afraid of James, and he hated himself for it. James was nothing different than he had been six hours ago, but Peter still felt uncomfortably aware of the fact that James did not belong to them.

Peter didn't think that Lily would tell anybody, but he also would never have expected her to throw it in his face like that. He felt like Lily and James brought out more of each other than other people did. It was usually the worst that they brought out, but maybe it could be the best if they tried.


	5. The Confrontation: Year Five

"Lily, I can't believe that you talk to those wankers." Severus' already prominent nose became more pronounced when he wrinkled it with disgust, but he didn't care. He did find it truly disgusting that she would spend her time with the werewolf, the blood traitor, and the chubby coward. The fact that she put up with a ghost made things infinitely worse.

"Come on, Sev," she said with a rueful grin. "You have no room to talk. You hang out with those bigoted Slytherins, so it's not like you have the best crowd. Don't criticize mine."

Lily was putting books back on the shelves as they readied themselves to leave the library. Her hips swayed as she walked, and his eyes clung to places he hadn't bothered to look at before this year. He had always found her beautiful, but there were parts of her that had grown _more_ beautiful in the past few months.

He spluttered, but he knew that he wouldn't get anywhere with her now. "It's not the same and you know it. Those boys don't mean anything to me, but the prats you consort with mean a lot to you."

She scowled at him, but he knew her well enough to see that it wasn't a totally angry look. "Of course they do. My friends mean the world to me, and that's lucky for you. If that wasn't true, I'd have listened to everybody and dropped you years ago."

She laughed, and he joined in, but his chest twinged with discomfort. None of her other friends liked him, nor did he like them. For the past five years, he had waited in fear for the day that she finally left him. He loved her, and he knew that she loved him, but those loves weren't the same.

"If it wasn't true, you also wouldn't be friends with werewolves," he grumbled.

She turned to him, eyes flashing. "Don't talk about Remus that way. You shouldn't spread such awful lies about people."

"Lily, it's true, I know it is-"

She stormed off, effectively ending their conversation. He had never understood her refusal to look into the lycanthrope theory. Severus had been certain of it since first year, but she had stopped him from looking into it. She had seemed intrigued by the idea at first, but she had promptly decided that it was stupid. Usually Lily was game to learn anything, but this was the one subject she remained firm on. Remus Lupin was not a werewolf, and she would never talk to Severus again if he said or did anything to try and prove it otherwise.

Lily confused Severus sometimes. They had been so close as children. They had been so _similar_ as children. She had been enchanted by magic and he had been enchanted by her. It was all they had needed, and though his needs had hardly changed at all, hers had.

She wanted other friends, and that was fine. But why had she decided to talk to the Marauders? Those boys antagonized Severus relentlessly, and she hated it, but she didn't stop talking to them. She studied with Remus sometimes. She tutored Peter. He had heard that she would stay up late into the night to talk with Sirius in the Common Room. She had hated James Potter in years past, but now she had a hesitant friendship with him. His jokes made her laugh, and her patience and kindness brought out the best in him.

Severus had seen this coming. The year before, he had wheedled the story of Potter's death out of some of the Slytherin upperclassmen. He had told Lily every gory detail. He had spun it a little differently, making James sound like a fool instead of a hero. Making him sound reckless instead of brave. He had been so careful to make James sound ridiculous, but she hadn't bought into the negative aspects of any of it. She was exasperated by James, even now, but aside from the times when he was unkind, she only thought more of him for his bravery. He had stopped being unkind to Lily the year before, after they'd had some row, and now they were almost friends.

Severus had known that girls fancied Potter, even as a ghost. He was so scared that Lily would feel the same, and he behaved all the more erratically for it.

Severus walked across the grounds, basking in the warm sun. His hardest exams were over, summer was spreading across Hogwarts, and he could finally feel his shoulders relaxing after weeks of tension. He shoved the O.W.L. paper into his bag, humming lazily as he walked. He thought about walking over to talk to Lily, but he didn't want to pretend to ignore the way her friends would gossip about him.

The back of his neck prickled; somebody was looking at him. Not just looking, somebody was staring. He scrambled to pull his wand from his robes. Sirius Black let out a bark of laughter, and Severus knew he was in danger.

"Impedimenta!" Sirius said, pointing his wand at Severus, who was knocked off his feet, helpless as his wand flew from his fingers.

Students all around had turned to watch. Severus knew better than to ask for help. Nobody would come, so he would look like a coward for asking. Some of them had gotten to their feet and were edging nearer to watch. They looked eager, if a little concerned.

Severus panted, unable to rise. James and Sirius advanced on him, Sirius with his wand up, James glancing over his shoulder towards Lily as he glided through the air. Pettigrew was on his feet now, watching hungrily, edging around the werewolf to get a clearer view.

"How'd the exam go, Snivelly?" said James.

"I was watching him, his nose was touching the parchment," said Sirius viciously. "There'll be great grease marks all over it, they won't be able to read a word."

People laughed. They always did; Severus was one of the only people in the school who was allowed to get bullied. He was a Slytherin without connections, and that was a dangerous combination. He tried to get up, but the jinx was still operating on him; he was struggling, as though bound by invisible ropes.

"You — wait," he panted, staring up at James with an expression of purest loathing. "You — wait. . . ."

"Wait for what?" said Sirius coolly. "What're you going to do, Snivelly, wipe your nose on us?" Severus spat mixed swearwords and hexes at them, but without his wand, he was defenceless. Useless.

"Wash out your mouth," said James coldly. He looked to Sirius, who smirked and raised his wand.

"Scourgify!" Pink soap bubbles streamed from Severus' mouth at once; the froth was covering his lips, making him gag, choking him —

"Leave him ALONE!" Lily's voice, as always, made Severus' stomach kick with pleasure. The feeling was apprehensive now, but he wasn't sure why. She was there to help, but he was afraid of that.

James and Sirius looked around. James's free hand jumped to his hair again. "All right, Evans?" said James, and the tone of his voice was suddenly pleasant, deeper, more mature.

"Leave him alone," Lily repeated. She was looking at James with every sign of great dislike. "What's he done to you?"

"Believe me," said James, his translucent face earnest, "this isn't about anything he's done to me. He's done plenty to deserve this, Evans."

Lily looked unimpressed. "You think you're being noble," she said coldly. "But you're just an arrogant, bullying toerag, Potter. Leave him alone."

"Does that seem right?" asked James, floating closer. "After what he says about Remus? After what happened to Mary McDonald?"

Behind him, the Impediment Jinx was wearing off. Severus was beginning to inch toward his fallen wand, spitting out soapsuds as he crawled.

"That wasn't him. You can't blame him for what his friends did. Let him alone," said Lily.

"Bad luck, Prongs," said Sirius briskly, turning back to look at Severus, who scrambled the last few feet to grab his wand. "OY!"

But too late; Severus had directed his wand straight at Remus; there was a flash of light and a gash appeared on the side of Remus' face, spattering his robes with blood. Sirius let out a roar of outrage; a second flash of light later, Snape was hanging upside down in the air, his robes falling over his head to reveal skinny, pallid legs and a pair of graying underpants.

Many people in the small crowd watching cheered. Sirius, James, and Wormtail roared with laughter.

Lily, whose furious expression had twitched for an instant as though she was going to smile, said, "Let him down!"

"Certainly," said James and he looked to Sirius. Sirius gave James an irritated look, but jerked his wand upward. Severus fell into a crumpled heap on the ground. Disentangling himself from his robes, he got quickly to his feet, wand up, but Sirius said, "Petrificus Totalus!" and Severus keeled over again at once, rigid as a board.

"LEAVE HIM ALONE!" Lily shouted. She had her own wand out now. James and Sirius eyed it warily.

"Evans, please. Nobody else will make Snape pay for everything he's done. He can't get away with it just because you like him," said James earnestly.

"Take the curse off him! You don't have the right to make him pay for anything, James."

James sighed deeply. Remus, his face a mask of blood and relief, muttered the countercurse. "There you go," James said, as Severus struggled to his feet again, "you're lucky Evans was here, Snivellus —"

"I don't need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!" His heart pounded with shame; she had smiled a little when she saw his underpants. She had thought this was all funny. It didn't matter that she had helped, not when it had cost Severus so much.

Lily blinked. Her eyes were filled with pain and confusion, but she wiped all feeling from them. "Fine," she said coolly. "I won't bother in future. And I'd wash your pants if I were you, Snivellus."

"Apologize to Evans!" James roared at Severus. James floated up to Severus, shoving his hand through Severus' throat. James couldn't use a wand, but the intense cold still stole Severus' breath away.

"I don't want you to make him apologize," Lily shouted, rounding on James, who withdrew with surprise. "You're as bad as he is. . . ."

"What?" yelped James. "I'd NEVER call you a — you-know-what!"

"You think helping some people makes up for how terrible you are to others. You can't pick favorites and expect to be a saint, James. I don't care if you don't do the dirty work yourself. This isn't bravery, and it isn't justice. If you think that this is okay, you make me as sick as he does." She gestured to Severus, her voice full of angry tears.

James and Lily stared at each other, and Severus realized something. Lily knew what would happen she said those words. They were true, but she also knew that James was better than that. James was better than what he was doing now, and the realization filled Severus with horror. He scrambled to prove himself wrong as James turned back to Severus. James couldn't hold the wand himself, but he was always the mastermind of these things. Right? He had to be. If he wasn't, then Lily's regard for him was something that Severus could not sever. He couldn't compete with a boy as handsome and brave as James Potter, even if that boy was dead.

Lily left. James called after her, but she didn't turn to look at him. She stormed off in the way that always meant she was trying to escape before the tears came. Severus had never made her cry before, but he knew that these tears were because of his betrayal, not James' unkindness.

He would try to make up with her. He would wait outside her dorm day and night, knowing that she would have to talk to him sometime. Much to his horror, she would refuse to make up with him.

"I never meant to call you Mudblood, it just —"

She cut him off. "Slipped out? It's too late. I've made excuses for you for years. None of my friends can understand why I even talk to you. You and your precious little Death Eater friends... You've chosen your way, I've chosen mine."

Severus' chest was ready to burst as she turned away from him to go to bed. He didn't know what to say, but he knew he had to say something to make her stay, even if it was only for a moment.

"James can't be your way, you know," he called after her. She froze, so he continued. "He's stuck here. He's dead. You can't choose him as your way. It's pointless."

She didn't look at him. He was happy he couldn't see her face as she spoke, since it would surely have broken his heart. "You have said many unkind things to me lately, Snape, but that is surely the most unkind thing of all." Her voice trembled. "You have believed many ridiculous things, but that is the most ridiculous thing of all."

Once again, she turned to leave, and once again, he spoke to keep her from doing so. "He fancies you! James Potter fancies you!"

He had said so before, and it always made her flush the tiniest bit, but now her voice trembled with rage. "If you were trying to be even worse than before, you have outdone yourself. Don't talk to me about things that I can't have."

She stormed away, leaving him breathless with pain, regret, and an understanding of Lily Evans that he hadn't had before.


	6. The Partner: Year Six

Transfiguration was an art, but it was also a challenge. Transfiguration was not all magic; it was mathematics and science. It was logic. It followed rules. The world did not always follow logical rules, not as Minerva McGonagall thought it ought to. She loved rules, but not the rules she had been forced to observe, especially in recent years.

The world came up with its own rules. Some were good and just, while others were restricting and cruel.

The sixth year students at Hogwarts were a better example of the effect of rules than Minerva could bear. Anybody could look at any Blacks at Hogwarts to see unbearable rules regulations, but to look at how they had affected Sirius Black was to break open one's own heart.

Remus Lupin had not yet been broken by society. All of his chips and cracks came from his own expectations, though they had been encouraged by the cruel words of others. She knew that his most difficult days were ahead, once Hogwarts no longer shielded him from the rules of society.

Severus Snape, though he had never told her himself, was probably the product of abuse. She did not know what kind, or to what extent, but she knew the look in his eyes. The rules that had broken him were rules that society fought against, but would never fully break free from. Imaginary rules, which only made sense to those who followed them, could seldom be shaken off.

Muggleborns, like Lily Evans, were subjected to some of the cruelest rules of all: the unofficial ones. The way muggleborns were treated by some of the students was inhumane, but Minerva could do no more than give a sharp reprimand and a detention unless she could prove that the actions were a part of something bigger. Try as she may, she could prove nothing.

She did her best to keep the darkness at bay. She had weekly teas with Sirius, where they could talk about whatever or whoever he wanted. It was one of the highlights of her week. She had special tutoring sessions with Remus, where she helped him stay at the top of his class. He was a brilliant boy, but his chances at succeeding outside of Hogwarts were better if he was the best at everything he did. She was sympathetic towards Snape, and she had tried to take him under her wing, but he had pushed her away years ago. Like with Remus, all she could really do for muggleborns was make them into the best witches and wizards they could be.

That was why she partnered Lily Evans with James Potter in Transfiguration. James was dead, therefore not a student, but he was one of the best pupils she had ever had. He would have gone on to do great things. In the end, he was a good man, but not a great one. The best thing he could have done with his life was to give it for someone else. He had already done that, so she would put his death to good use. He may never have his name in history books, but he could leave his mark on every student that leaves this place.

She had asked him to meet her in her classroom once all of the students were free for the day.

"Wotcher, Minnie!" He had managed to put as much of a swagger into his way of floating as he always had in his strut. It would have made her smile, but she tried (and failed) to be more professional with him.

"I'm sorry, I must have misheard you. Care to repeat that, Potter?" She raised one thin eyebrow.

"Good afternoon, Professor. How may I be of service on this fine, fine day?" He beamed at her, eyes dancing.

"I need you to do me a favor," she said.

"Consider it done," he promised.

Her lips curled slightly, but not enough for him to notice. She had always liked this boy. He was infuriating, but he would have been a wonderful man, given the opportunity to become one. Instead he had been forced to gain emotional maturity without the life that comes with it.

"It's not so easy as that. It will take time and effort, but I think that it's necessary," she said.

"Consider it done," he repeated, moving to run his hand through hair that was no longer material for anybody but him.

"I need you to be Lily Evans' partner in Transfiguration."

His eyebrows shot up. "Evans? Really?"

"Yes, Mr. Potter."

"In every period of Transfiguration?"

"Yes, Potter." She was already tired of the two of them together, and they hadn't even been partners for their first class yet.

He grinned, a wicked but happy glint in it. "She's going to hate this, you know."

Minerva tipped her head in acknowledgment, but her eyes had a similar shine. "She likes you well enough. It ought to be fine."

"She likes me just fine, but she doesn't like to be coddled," he replied.

Minerva shrugged slightly. "She'll thank me when she gets job offers from every position in Britain."

"You want _what_?" Lily's eyes flashed. She was a small girl, but she used every inch to her advantage.

Minerva calmly met Lily's eyes. "I would like you to partner with Mr. Potter from now on."

"You can't be serious," she seethed.

Minerva gave a rare smile, delicious delight coursing through her veins. "No, Miss Evans, you are right about that. Sirius is sitting at his desk."

Lily fought a smile, but fury still poured from her pores. "I don't need a different partner, Professor. If you have a complaint, you could just talk to me about it. I will fix whatever is wrong. You don't have to punish me."

James gave a distant huff of annoyance, no doubt at being considered a punishment, but the women ignored him. "It's not a punishment. Your lowest marks are in my class, and I want you to raise them. Mr. Potter can help you."

"My marks are good!"

"Not good enough to prove to everyone what you are capable of," Minerva said in a low voice.

Lily paused. She calmed a little, thinking it over. McGonagall waited patiently.

"Alright," she finally said. "But if we have a row, you can't be angry at me. This is on you, Professor."

Minerva gave a curt nod. "You haven't had a row with him in months. I'm not concerned."

She watched as Lily gave a huff of frustration. The class was trying to conjure birds, admittedly one of the more difficult spells she taught, but Lily was having more trouble than usual.

"Evans," James said calmly, "you've got to really mean it. It's as much about force of mind as it is about force of words."

"If you keep talking to me like that, I'll force my wand up your-" Lily snarled, only cutting herself off when she saw the amused smirk on McGonagall's face.

James grinned too, circling the table before settling close to her. "Why don't you just try it? It's difficult to shove a wand up anything of mine, these days."

She opened her mouth to retort, but her words died when Mary McDonald gave a piercing shriek from the back of the classroom. She had unintentionally conjured a severed head instead of birds. Other students screamed, a few charging for the door.

McGonagall calmly waved her wand. The door slammed closed, locking. She waved again, and the head disappeared. "Class," she said. The room fell silent, but the air was charged. "It is not uncommon to conjure the wrong thing, nor is it uncommon to conjure something unsavory. That is why we are here. If you follow my instructions and practice, this will not happen. Back to work."

Slowly, the class eased back into their assignment. James was still smiling; he had laughed during the chaos. Somebody summoned something unpleasant every year, and it never got less amusing. Lily was far more subdued. She seemed business-like, but Minerva could see the hesitancy as the girl reached for her wand again.

"Alright, Lily. Show me again," James said.

Lily licked her lips, steeling herself. James' eyes lingered there for a few tense seconds, but she ignore him as she waved her arm.

She spoke the charm, but nothing happened. She relaxed slightly momentarily, relieved that nothing horrible had happened, but as soon as James zeroed in, she hardened. The two were good friends, but Lily was not always willing to accept criticism. It was one of her more irritating vices, but Minerva could not fault her for it. She had always been the same way.

"You're waving your arm wrong," James said. He was calm and businesslike, but the hard line of his shoulders betrayed his preparation for an argument.

"I'm not," Lily said. She was, Minerva noted.

"Lily, you've just got to be crisper with it. Again," he ordered.

She tried again, sarcasm lacing her voice.

"Too stiff now," he said. "You've got to be crisp, but smooth. Don't jerk your arm about, but be firm. Again."

Lily tried again, and again, nothing happened.

"Okay," James said eagerly. "I see what you're doing. Here."

He reached for her arm, ready to show her how to move it. Minerva actually flinched forward to stop him, but she stopped herself as his silvery fingers went through Lily's arm.

The teenagers froze, looking at each other. James had immediately yanked himself back, but their eyes locked. No other students had noticed, thank goodness, but the two were trapped in a moment apart from the rest of the class.

Minerva wished she hadn't witnessed it. She had watched many "moments" between students over the years. Many future spouses met at school, after all, so romances that began in classrooms were commonplace. She had a soft spot for watching love blossom in her classroom, but this was all wrong. She knew Lily's face. She had seen that same look on her beau's face when they had gone out in her younger years. More specifically, she had seen it when she broke off their engagement. It was one of horror and hurt. It was a face full of inevitable loss.

She knew the look in James' eyes. She thought that it was the same she had worn as she left her beau for the last time. It was a wise look, one that recognized the hopelessness of a situation, but still somehow had a little hope anyways.

She looked away. She shouldn't have paired the two up. She certainly wouldn't have, had she known that she was brushing against a rule that was in place for a reason. Life and Death loved each other, at least in stories. They were complimentary, always a part of each other, but they had to love each other from far away.

She never should have paired Lily and James. They worked well together, but that was because they complimented each other. It was not a constructive, healthy compliment. It could only ache and fester. Minerva had thought, in years after leaving her lover, that they could have worked past their different worlds. She did not regret her actions, but time had shown that there were other courses of action. Lily and James had no such options. They could not be together. The worlds they were a part of could look, but never touch.

The world followed rules, after all, and some were not meant to be broken.


End file.
